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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29779185">Surrender</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/eris223/pseuds/eris223'>eris223</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Clexaweek21, Clexaweek21 Day 1 Accidental Love Confession, F/F, Happy ending as always, Kinda Fluffy, Slow Burn, WAC officer Lexa, WW2, code girl clarke, kinda thrilling, or as a friend calls it fluff with suspense</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:35:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29779185</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/eris223/pseuds/eris223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s 1944. The world is at war, everything is a mess, and Clarke Griffin is just trying to do her part, using her wicked smarts to decode secret messages obtained by the good ol’ US of A. </p>
<p>If she happens to take a break and stare at the WAC officer with long legs and a mug to die for, well, who can blame her? She’s an exemplary employee with zero marks in the naughty column; she could let her mind wander every now and then. </p>
<p>Except for that one time Clarke stuck her nose where it didn’t belong.</p>
<p>But it’s not like history would repeat itself, and her officer would pull Clarke into a whirlwind adventure halfway around the world where things she’d never even considered existed and lust could turn into love, right?</p>
<p>Or the WWII Clexa code girl/spy thriller no one asked for</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clarke Griffin/Lexa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>246</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Clexaweek2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I Met Her on Monday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When asked by officials if women could make good spies, a European officer once said, “An agent should be calm, unostentatious, and reticent. Women are emotional, vain, loquacious. They fall in love easily and without discrimination.”</p>
<p>Clarke wanted nothing more than to sock that man in the face.</p>
<p>As she saw it, women were some of the most resilient, loyal, intelligent, tough as nails people around. If someone spent their whole life being overlooked and underestimated, they gained a unique perspective. They observed. They could watch from the shadows of anonymity and wreak havoc on everyone in their path. And that, combined with a woman’s inherent strength of mind, body, and soul, spelled the perfect recipe for espionage, in her humble opinion.</p>
<p>So that bum rap of a statement could wither and die in the deepest part of hell for all she cared. Every bit of it was a lie and fallacy. No ounce of truth in it whatsoever.</p>
<p>Mostly.</p>
<p>He <em>did</em> say that one bit about love. </p>
<p>And while his intentions were firmly rooted in misogyny, there was the tiniest air of truth to it. About love. Only love. At least in her experience.</p>
<p>*******</p>
<p>“This isn’t a love story.”</p>
<p>The dull thump of a pencil tapping on paper snapped Clarke out of her haze. She tore her attention, quite reluctantly, from the lean uniformed figure in the hallway and locked eyes with her friend.</p>
<p>“What?” Clarke blinked with an innocent smile.</p>
<p>“I said-” Raven glanced at the doorway, spying the object of Clarke’s interest before dropping her voice to a whisper. “This isn’t some love story. We’re supposed to be working.”</p>
<p>Clarke straightened her shoulders and bit her thumbnail, feigning concentration on the stack of papers piled on her desk. “I <em>am</em> working,” she hissed.</p>
<p>Raven didn’t bother with a verbal response. She raised her eyebrows, and that was all that was needed to destroy Clarke’s last shred of willpower.</p>
<p>“It’s not my fault she’s so easy to look at,” she relented. And as if to prove her statement, Clarke’s helpless gaze wandered back to the doorway. The woman stood, eyes trained on the private speaking to her. Her back was straight, her shoulders square. She radiated authority and power, and Clarke would have known that this woman was an officer despite the obvious cut of her uniform. </p>
<p>Clarke couldn’t take her eyes off the way the officer held herself. Her arms were folded across her chest as if she were hugging herself. But she was also continually lifting one hand, waving it gently through the air, and occasionally placing a gentle touch on her conversation partner. Nothing inappropriate, far from it, but it was mesmerizing nonetheless, and Clarke wished for nothing more than to be privy to what was being said.</p>
<p>“Leave it to you to fall for someone you’ve never met, and an officer to boot.”</p>
<p>Clarke huffed as her shoulders fell in defeat. “I haven’t fallen for anyone,” she mumbled.</p>
<p>Despite the lie, Clarke shook her head and refocused on the work in front of her. Raven was right. She <em>should</em> be working, and this work was important. She indeed was lucky enough to help the war effort in this way. </p>
<p>Not that her previous job was inconsequential, it was just monotonous. Managing books for a torpedo factory could only keep a gal satisfied for so long, so when she’d heard about the test, Clarke had practically sprinted here.</p>
<p>Arlington Hall was once an all-girls school, and growing up nearby, Clarke had heard how it’d been commandeered by the government a few years back. It’d taken her no time whatsoever to find the campus and even less to find the old classroom. </p>
<p>A few other girls sat about some desks, all staring at the same sheet of paper.</p>
<p>Ten sets of numbers arranged in five-digit groups. A code.</p>
<p>All she was given was minimal instruction to subtract using non-carrying math. That was a phrase she’d never heard before; it wasn’t taught in primary school; she’d never even heard mention of it in college. But that didn’t matter. Within seconds of staring at the numbers, something clicked. She sped through the test with ease, and a rush of pride swelled in her chest as the supervisor nodded and smiled as she handed over her sheet.</p>
<p>Clarke had worked as a code girl ever since, starting in the bigger Japanese department before transferring to Venona.</p>
<p>Clarke shifted in her seat, stilling her wandering mind, and flipped to the next page. She bit her thumbnail as she focused on the next set of numbers. <em>Familiar </em>numbers.</p>
<p>She gasped and raised the sheet closer to her face. “I think we have this pad,” she murmured.</p>
<p>Raven sat up straight next to her, snatching the paper from Clarke’s hands. Raven’s eyes went wide as saucers, and if Clarke wasn’t vibrating on the same level of excitement, she’d have laughed. </p>
<p>“Holy mackerel,” Raven breathed. She slammed the paper back down on Clarke’s desk and raced to the back as fast as her body would take her.</p>
<p>Clarke’s leg bounced with displaced adrenaline. The Soviets were so careful in their codes, using a pad only once. It’s what made their messages near impossible to break. But sometimes they got lucky. A careless mistake or miscalculation on the Russians’ part and they’d crack a code.</p>
<p>This was one of those times, and Clarke’s body was buzzing with anticipation.</p>
<p>Raven slammed a thick binder down on the desk before them, thumbing through the pages. She stopped somewhere in the middle, and Clarke already had her pencil at the ready.</p>
<p>Raven read aloud the first set of numbers, one by one, and within moments, Clarke had the code ready. After a little help finding the correct cipher page from her just as giddy friend, Clarke broke the code. </p>
<p>She stared at the set of foreign words and symbols. Cyrillic. </p>
<p>Clarke smiled as she slid the paper over to Raven. This was where her involvement ended. She’d done her part, and now it was the military’s task to translate the message and judge whether their Soviet allies were still friendly.</p>
<p>“Nice work, Griffin,” Raven smirked as she held the paper in her hand. Her fingers shook with excitement, rattling the paper.</p>
<p>“Go on,” Clarke laughed. “Go take it to Mr. Kane. Get out of here.”</p>
<p>Raven leaned down, planting an obnoxious kiss on Clarke’s cheek, and raced away. Clarke sat back in her chair, her cheeks on the brink of aching due to her massive smile.</p>
<p>To anyone else, the events of the last few minutes would seem boring, mundane even, yet to Clarke, they were anything but. It was so rare to have a development like that. In the six months she’d worked as a code girl, she’d only seen one other Soviet break like this. </p>
<p>Wave after wave of happiness for a job well done washed over her body, and that, combined with the leftover adrenaline, had her humming with energy. She checked the large round clock on the wall, sighing a grand smile when she discovered she was overdue for a short break.</p>
<p>Clarke gathered her coat, and after quickly alerting her supervisor of her whereabouts, headed down the long hallway. The midday winter sun shone through the high windows, lighting up the linoleum like a spotlight. Her hand wrapped around the cool doorknob, and a gust of cold wind swirled around her as she pushed open the door.</p>
<p>But it didn’t swing open as far as Clarke expected, meeting a sudden obstacle accompanied by an exclaim of surprise.</p>
<p>“Pardon me.” The delicate yet commanding voice might as well have punched Clarke in the heart, for her life-sustaining organ seemed to stop functioning for a full three seconds. </p>
<p>It was her officer. </p>
<p>“I’m so sorry,” Clarke apologized as the officer took a small step back, allowing Clarke enough room to inch outside. “I was just headed out for a bit of fresh air, and I didn’t see you there.”</p>
<p>She pushed the lump in her throat down to her stomach and mustered a friendly smile as she took in the officer. It was the closest she’d ever been to her, and Clarke’s body knew that as well as her mind.</p>
<p>Her pulse quickened as her eyes drifted down the lean figure in her precise uniform. The light shade drab skirt fell below her knees, and Clarke gulped as her gaze involuntarily flowed upwards. The dark olive drab jacket sat perfectly on her shoulders, and Clarke had to remind her lungs to breathe. Her chestnut hair was neat and pulled well off her shoulders, and Clarke’s cheeks flushed. A silver bar gleamed on her just off-centered cap, and oh, dear…</p>
<p>The world had been at war long enough for Clarke to know what that silver bar represented. Her officer was a first lieutenant. </p>
<p>“Fault is all mine, miss. I’m afraid I was distracted and wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have. How careless of me.”</p>
<p>The lieutenant’s little smile was charming and confident, and Clarke could not help the reciprocating one even if she tried. Not that she wanted to. With all that humanity had gone through in the past decade, she’d learned long ago to take what little good she experienced and cherish it. </p>
<p>So while she wished her skin would return to its pre-flustered state, she didn’t curse its reaction. It felt good, these flutters, these butterflies. The blood rushed through her arteries, lighting up her body with heat and life, and Clarke took in a breath of cold air.</p>
<p>“Lieutenant-” Clarke started only to be interrupted by another woman scooting past them in the doorway.</p>
<p>The woman nodded a polite “ma’am” to the lieutenant whose smile dropped to a more appropriate expression, and Clarke’s stomach swooped at the impressive display of professionalism. </p>
<p>And just like that, the small moment was gone.</p>
<p>Clarke stood to the side and held the door for the lieutenant. The thankful smile her gesture earned wasn’t quite as warm as before, but she glided past Clarke far enough away to avoid touching but close enough for Clarke to catch a whiff of her jasmine perfume. </p>
<p>It was just a hint, a soft and sweet scent that lingered for no more than a few seconds, but it was enough to still Clarke to the spot. She watched the lieutenant remove her garrison cap, folding it in half with delicate yet sure fingers, never faltering in her stride as she walked with such confidence through the halls.</p>
<p>Once out of sight, the spell the lieutenant cast on Clarke was broken, and she finally got around to that quick walk.</p>
<p>The sun hung overhead, warming her skin despite the cold January air. Uniformed soldiers stood guard - all men, of course, for even though the Women’s Army Corps was part of the military, they were strictly non-combat - and every guard acknowledged her politely as she walked past. Clarke mustered little nods in return, but none earned her smile.</p>
<p>No, that was saved for a particular WAC, it seemed.</p>
<p>No one quite held a candle to the lieutenant. She was something special.</p>
<p>Clarke sighed and tucked her hands deep in the pockets of her warm coat. She strolled along the grounds for another few minutes, just until thoughts of the lieutenant trickled to only once every thirty seconds instead of constantly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Nice Work If You Can Get It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clarke rolled her head in a complete circle and gave a much-needed stretch to her arms. It’d been a long day at the beginning of a long week. After the excitement of decoding something yesterday, the hours bled into one another in a blur of numbers and monotony. She stood from her desk, and more to work her legs than out of other necessity, excused herself to the ladies’ room.</p>
<p>The building was old and drafty, and even though it was the dead of winter, the temperature inside couldn’t decide what it wanted to be. Her little corner of the Venona room wavered from much too warm to freezing, and this afternoon seemed to be stuck in the boiling zone. So when she entered the restroom, Clarke wet a towel and dabbed at the back of her heated neck.</p>
<p>The door opened behind her, and there, perfectly mirrored, slipped in her lieutenant. </p>
<p>She looked pristine in her uniform, as per usual, but there was an odd chaotic aura around her. A few strands of her usually flawless hair peeked out in disarray, and just above the bridge of her nose, right between her dark eyebrows, her skin pinched in discomfort.</p>
<p>She hadn’t noticed Clarke. Not yet. The lieutenant’s eyes squeezed shut as she stared in blindness at the ceiling.</p>
<p>Clarke felt a bit like a voyeur, watching this woman in pain when it was clear she thought she was alone, so she did the only logical thing. She cleared her throat. </p>
<p>The lieutenant snapped her eyes open in a panic, but as soon as her gaze landed on Clarke, that pinched brow softened, and the tension in her shoulders released a fraction.</p>
<p>The hard line of her lips still alerted Clarke that something was bothering her, but it wasn’t Clarke’s place to pry. It was 1944. There was plenty to stress a person out.</p>
<p>Clarke did her best to avoid staring, but the lieutenant remained where she was, back against the door, hands tight at her sides, unmoving.</p>
<p>“You look like you’re avoiding something,” Clarke finally said as she turned to face the lieutenant. “Or someone.”</p>
<p>The lieutenant remained still, but her eyes focused on Clarke, no apparent emotion. It was almost infuriating how difficult she was to read.</p>
<p>“I don’t mean to assume, but-” Clarke shrugged and gestured to the lieutenant standing there.</p>
<p>In an instant, the lieutenant stood straight, tugged on the hem of her coat torelease the wrinkles, and set her shoulders back to the perfect picture of professionalism. It was oddly disappointing to see her back on and no longer raw and real. </p>
<p>“Forgive me if I’ve overstepped,” Clarke grimaced.</p>
<p>“No need.” The lieutenant glided over to the sink and gathered a small amount of water in her hands. She splashed it on her face, and Clarke stood entranced as the droplets of water trickled across perfect cheekbones, gathering at the corner of full lips. </p>
<p>She fumbled for a towel to dry her face, and Clarke obliged. Their fingers gently brushed as she handed her a paper towel.</p>
<p>The touch was electric, tingling the tip of Clarke’s finger all the way through her chest. The lieutenant recoiled from the contact, if the speed of her hand’s retreat was any indication, but her soft smile and kind eyes had Clarke doubting that assumption.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” the lieutenant whispered. She took in a deep breath that caused her chest to rise and fall grandly. “The chain of command is necessary, but sometimes it’s difficult for a wo-”</p>
<p>She stopped herself in time, but she needn’t finish her sentence for Clarke to understand the sentiment.</p>
<p>“This is our war, too,” Clarke nodded. “We fight, just as hard as anyone, in any way we can.”</p>
<p>The lieutenant offered a genuine smile in return, and Clarke’s chest filled with pride. It felt wonderful to elicit such a reaction from this woman.</p>
<p>“Well,” the lieutenant smirked. “Best get back to that fight.”</p>
<p>And with that, she left.</p>
<p>*******</p>
<p>Upon Clarke’s return to her desk, the clock ticked just as it should, but still, it seemed as if those hands were weighed down with sandbags, moving much too slow. The numbers on the page in front of her blurred as she calculated the math, and her mind wandered to the thrill of yesterday.</p>
<p>It was a little unusual she hadn’t heard anything about that message. In the past, when something like that was decoded, it was whispered about for weeks. Full messages were such a rare thing and highly classified, so naturally, it should have been the juiciest piece of gossip swirling around Arlington Hall.</p>
<p>But nothing.</p>
<p>“Hey-” Clarke tapped the stack of papers in front of Raven, pulling her friend’s gaze toward her. “What was in that message?”</p>
<p>Raven didn’t even look up. “What message?”</p>
<p>Clarke dropped her voice as low as a mouse. “The message from yesterday. The one we had the pad for.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Raven shook her head. “I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“Mr. Kane took it.”</p>
<p>“So,” Clarke leaned forward. “What did it say?”</p>
<p>“I told you,” Raven dismissed. “They took it from me.”</p>
<p>Clarke took a quick precautionary glance around the room. Her colleagues all had their heads down, buried in their work. Mr. Kane stood in the back, digging through a filing cabinet. No one was paying any attention to her.</p>
<p>Clarke nudged Raven’s shoulder. “I know you, Raven. You had that message translated before you took a single step across the room.”</p>
<p>Raven set her pencil down slowly, delicately. “My, my,” she exclaimed as she leaned backwards. “Look at the time! It’s half-past three. I’m due for a bit of fresh air. Clarke?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes,” Clarke caught on instantly. “Fresh air sounds like just the ticket.”</p>
<p>Their little charade was completely unnecessary as no one paid them any attention as they exited the building. The guard posted just outside the door nodded as they strode down the paved path through the trees.</p>
<p>When they were a reasonable distance from the building and confident they were the only ones on the trail, Raven hooked her arm around Clarke’s, pulling her close. To anyone walking past or staring out a window, it would merely seem as if two friends huddled together for a little warmth while on a quick stroll, but this position just made it simple for Raven to keep her voice low and out of prying ears.</p>
<p>“Volunteer found blood on musketeer.”</p>
<p>“What?” Clarke blinked.</p>
<p>The translated message followed a similar pattern of ones she’d seen before. A simple set of words that held meaning to only those who had knowledge of the code, but something in this one made the hairs on the back of Clarke’s neck stand on end. It was sinister.</p>
<p>“That’s what the message said,” Raven whispered, utterly unaware of Clarke’s gut feeling.</p>
<p>“Do you know what it means?”</p>
<p>“Volunteer is obviously a code name.”</p>
<p>Clarke nodded. She gathered that much on her own. Every message ever deciphered in their department started with that, a name assigned to an agent to keep their identity hidden.</p>
<p>“But everything else?” Raven shrugged. “Beats me.”</p>
<p>“And here I thought you were a genius,” Clarke managed a small chuckle.</p>
<p>“Clarke, I can speak five languages and calculate complex mathematics in my head, but not even I can decipher that random string of words with zero context. Now, if I had access to the information Mr. Kane does, then undoubtedly, yes. But right now? Beats me.”</p>
<p><em>Men</em>. Clarke shook her head. If only they would put their egos to the side for one moment and use the brilliant resources they had right in front of them, this war could come to a much swifter end.</p>
<p>Raven’s arm tightened in Clarke’s hold. The heat radiating from her permeated through Clarke’s coat, warming her skin. Her friend was just as, if not more, bothered by this chain of command as Clarke was.</p>
<p>And it was entirely Clarke’s fault she was upset over it right now.</p>
<p>So Clarke nudged Raven’s shoulder, and with her most dramatic impression of Vivien Leigh, implored, “Speak to me, Raven! Tell me something beautiful in one of those five languages you know.”</p>
<p>“Ang sabik kong diwa'y huwag mong uhawin sa batis na iyong wagas na paggiliw.”</p>
<p>Clarke stopped in her tracks, grinning from ear to ear. “Despite that sounding amazingly impressive, I have no idea what you just said.”</p>
<p>Raven smirked in that self-assured way she always did. “Just some song lyrics in Tagalog.”</p>
<p>“You speak Tagalog?”</p>
<p>“I started learning it a few years ago. Right after the Japanese-”</p>
<p>“I hope Kane’s brightest minds aren’t whistling dixie out here instead of working.”</p>
<p>Both Raven and Clarke froze as a uniformed officer blocked their path.</p>
<p>She was a little taller than them, dark-skinned, with an intense and utterly unimpressed expression permanently etched onto her face. The golden oak leaf on her shoulder shone in the sun as she stared through them, regarding them, reading their souls.</p>
<p>The intimidation almost worked, but Clarke set her shoulders, mustered the stubborn courage she kept at the ready, and smiled. “Good afternoon, Major.”</p>
<p>The major ignored her greeting and folded her hands behind her back. “You know, I would hate to have to report back to Mr. Kane that you two were meddling in-” she paused, turning her attention to Clarke, and narrowed her eyes. “Confidential things.”</p>
<p>Clarke’s jaw tightened. </p>
<p>She knew.</p>
<p>This major knew what happened last summer. Not that it was that surprising, Clarke had been the talk of the building then. The rookie code girl who’d done her own research into a particularly wordy message she’d deciphered from the Japanese. Her suspicions had proved right, but that didn’t matter. It wasn’t her job. So after an severe reprimanding, she was reassigned to Venona, cracking codes they’d intercepted from the Russians, their allies. It wasn’t a downgrade, not in the slightest, but the move did keep her out of the action.</p>
<p>Nevertheless, Clarke understood a direct threat when she heard it, and not one to get her friend in trouble, she backed down.</p>
<p>“No, ma’am,” Clarke shook her head. “We were just-”</p>
<p>“On your way back inside?”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am,” Clarke relented. She turned, pulling Raven with her, and hustled back towards the warmth of Arlington Hall, the major’s watchful gaze burning into her back the whole way there.</p>
<p>*******</p>
<p>The end of the day came rather quickly after their stroll outside, and soon enough, Clarke found herself packing up for the day. </p>
<p>She waved a polite good night to Mr. Kane, and when Raven joined her at the door, they headed down the hallway. Clarke hadn’t spoken to Raven after the encounter with the major, guilt being a fickle little thing that wouldn’t release its claws that quickly, so they walked down the halls in silence.</p>
<p>A clacking of hard shoes on linoleum lit up the hallway, not an unusual sound these days, but as Clarke turned a corner, a warm body collided with her own. Rolled documents and folders flew through the air, floating all around them, and decorated the ground like confetti.</p>
<p>“Mercy me!” A corporal sunk to the floor, gathering papers as quick as possible. “The major’s going to string me up by my stockings. I’m already so late.”</p>
<p>Her hands shook as she grasped for the mess of documents scattered about, and Clarke’s heart panged for her. If she was speaking of the same major she met this afternoon, she understood. That woman was intimidating and radiated more power than Eisenhower himself. </p>
<p>“It’s okay,” Clarke smiled as she knelt down. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Let me help.”</p>
<p>The corporal gave her a grateful smile as Clarke stacked the papers within her grasp. She froze as she looked down at the document she just handed over.</p>
<p>A map of the Philippines.</p>
<p>But that alone wasn’t worth a penny. No, it was the title on the top of the map that caught her attention: Operation Musketeer.</p>
<p><em>Musketeer</em>.</p>
<p>Out of instinct and a possibly masochistic sense of curiosity, Clarke scanned the stack of reports as she handed them over, desperate for a clue or trace of other familiar code words.</p>
<p>But she saw nothing. </p>
<p>Only a few other documents alluding to an Operation Musketeer and a repeated word she’d never seen before: aswang.</p>
<p>Papers all gathered, the corporal stood and offered a terse “thanks” before scurrying down the hall and out of sight.</p>
<p>*******</p>
<p>The apartment Clarke shared with Raven was just about a mile and a half from Arlington Hall, and the walk home took no time at all. They settled into their regular routine, Clarke cooking up a quick meal while Raven read aloud from the newspaper. They said nothing of work. That was the unspoken law. It had to be. They’d go insane if they didn’t have a healthy separation of work and home.</p>
<p>But Clarke’s mind kept drifting to the stack of papers, the map, that strange repeated word, so as she sipped a bit of her soup, she broke their one rule. “Did you happen to glance at the paperwork that corporal had?”</p>
<p>Raven chuckled as she shook her head. “Ah, so we’re committing treason this evening?”</p>
<p>“It’s only treason if we leak the information.”</p>
<p>“A technicality I don’t want to push.”</p>
<p>Clarke narrowed her eyes as she studied her friend across the table. Raven may seem to follow the rules more closely than her, but simmering under the surface was a woman just as curious and far cleverer than Clarke.</p>
<p>“There was a map of the Philippines in there, and it was titled Operation Musketeer.”</p>
<p>Raven’s lip twitched, and she readjusted in her seat.</p>
<p>Clarke kept a hold of her inevitable celebration and pushed a little farther. “And a word. A repeated word,” Clarke shrugged, keeping her voice calm. “It wasn’t English.”</p>
<p>Raven dropped her spoon into her bowl and covered her eyes, groaning in defeat. “Ugh, fine! What was the word?”</p>
<p>“Aswang,” Clarke smirked.</p>
<p>Raven laughed aloud as she shook her head. “Your accent is truly horrible.”</p>
<p>Clarke launched a bit of cracker across the table hitting Raven square between the eyes, but her anger over the jibe was fleeting. “You know what that word is?”</p>
<p>“Of course I do.”</p>
<p>“Well?” Clarke’s whole body buzzed with anticipation.</p>
<p>“It’s Tagalog for ghost.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Ti-Pi-Tan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clarke’s footsteps crunched as she trodded on the snow-packed path.</p>
<p>Raven clung to her side, and Clarke let her, both out of a desire to steal her warmth and to keep herself upright. She couldn’t even imagine how embarrassed she’d feel if she slipped right now with her lieutenant just a few yards away.</p>
<p>She looked exquisite, as usual, and Clarke’s cheeks heated as those big, knowing eyes locked with hers. And if that wasn’t enough to thaw her frozen body, the lieutenant smiled. Not big or bold, but just a hint of one. A whisper. And somehow, that meant more than a grand gesture. It felt like a splendid little secret between the two of them.</p>
<p>“Even I can admit that that woman is a real dish all decked out in her uniform. You’d think it would be illegal to look that good while on duty.” Raven nudged Clarke’s shoulder in jest, but that did nothing to dam the flood of embarrassment coursing through Clarke’s body at being caught staring.</p>
<p>But there was no use in trying to deny it. That woman did look good.</p>
<p>“She’s a lieutenant,” Clarke nodded.</p>
<p>“You talked to her?”</p>
<p>“A couple of times.”</p>
<p>“And?” Raven prodded, stopping them in their tracks.</p>
<p>“And she’s perfectly lovely and professional.”</p>
<p>Raven dropped her head while rolling her eyes. “You’re useless.”</p>
<p>“We’re at work,” Clarke defended herself. “And there’s a war raging. There’s no time for… for…” </p>
<p>Clarke struggled to put into words what exactly it was. She honestly hadn’t given much thought behind her attraction for the lieutenant. Sure, she was pleasant to look at, and the way she radiated authority made Clarke’s heart skip a wayward beat. Her eyes seemed so mysterious up close, like they’d seen far more than their share of things, and it made Clarke’s skin tremble with desire to just hug or comfort her. </p>
<p>But all that didn’t matter. She couldn’t pursue the lieutenant. She didn’t even know her name.</p>
<p>Clarke huffed, turning towards her friend. “You know what I mean.”</p>
<p>The smug look on Raven’s face heated Clarke’s body for an entirely different reason, and ready to move past this particular topic of discussion, Clarke hooked her arm through Raven’s and tugged her back down the path.</p>
<p>“So, have you heard anything from Mr. Kane about the message?”</p>
<p>Clarke felt a sag of annoyance as she held onto her friend.</p>
<p>“You’re still on about that?” Raven groaned.</p>
<p>Of course, she was. Ever since she’d seen those documents, learned that Operation Musketeer had to do with the Philippines, she’d been on a mission. Well, less of a traditional mission and more a thought train she couldn’t jump off.</p>
<p>Something about that one just made her skin crawl. The use of the word blood, that weird Tagalog phrase. Everything. There was something about this one. And she hadn’t heard a peep about it. Clarke wasn’t sure if the lack of whispers or the message itself was more alarming.</p>
<p>“Yes, Raven,” Clarke nodded. “I am still on about that.”</p>
<p>“Nothing is going on about it,” Raven shrugged.</p>
<p>“What? Why not?”</p>
<p>“They don’t think it’s anything to be of concern.”</p>
<p>“That’s preposterous.”</p>
<p>“They’re the experts, Clarke. If they don’t think it’s anything, they’re not going to waste their time and resources. There are plenty of other fish in the sea.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Clarke sighed. “I just have a feeling about this one.”</p>
<p>“Like the feeling you had last summer?”</p>
<p>Clarke’s body bristled with guilt and anger. She hadn’t really known Raven then, only meeting her after she was transferred to Venona, and the low blow hit her hard this morning.</p>
<p>“I was right,” Clarke glared. “If you remember correctly.”</p>
<p>Raven pulled them to a stop once more. “Look,” she grabbed Clarke’s hands, forcing her to maintain poignant eye contact. “I can see that you aren’t going to let this one go, but I can’t do any more digging. I’ve already asked Mr. Kane one too many times, and he’s starting to stare at me with hellfire in his eyes. I won’t jeopardize my position here. I can’t. It’s too important. And not just for me, but for everyone. Our job is important. Can’t you see that?”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Raven.” Clarke forced the guilt lump in her throat down. She was like a dog with a bone and couldn’t, or perhaps just wouldn’t, let this go. “I know that message is different. There’s something to it, and I just need to make sure someone is-”</p>
<p>Raven placed a finger to Clarke’s lips, silencing her, and Clarke fought the inexplicable urge to bite it right off.</p>
<p>“There’s an officer here. I’ve heard rumors. He has a-” she lowered her voice. “Particular reputation.”</p>
<p>“A reputation for what?”</p>
<p>Raven glanced around the snow-dusted path. There weren’t many people taking their breaks outside this morning, too cold for most. She leaned in towards Clarke. “Third floor,” she whispered. “Fourth office from the stairs.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Clarke beamed. “I’ll go up there-”</p>
<p>Raven waved her hands in front of her, silencing Clarke. “Don’t say another word. The more deniability I have, the better.”</p>
<p>“I could kiss you right now,” Clarke beamed.</p>
<p>“Save that for your lieutenant.”</p>
<p>*******</p>
<p>Both clock hands pointed mercifully down, already half past the end of a code girls’ workday, and the office was nearly clear. Only Mr. Kane, Raven, and herself remained in their tucked-away room in Arlington Hall.</p>
<p>Clarke placed her final stack of papers in the filing cabinets, smiling as innocently as she could muster while Mr. Kane locked them up tight for the night.</p>
<p>“You know,” he paused after tucking the key into his breast pocket. “Despite the circumstance of your transfer, I’m happy to have you. You’re a wonderful asset, Ms. Griffin.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Mr. Kane,” Clarke mumbled, sinking her guilt over every poor thought she’d ever had about this man into the depths of her stomach. </p>
<p>“May I walk you ladies out?”</p>
<p>“Oh, um…” Clarke’s guilt transformed into a panic. She had plans to sneak upstairs this evening, not be escorted around by her boss. </p>
<p>Raven appeared behind her at that moment, looping her arm through Clarke’s. “That’d be swell, sir. Thank you.”</p>
<p>She felt stiff in Raven’s arms as they walked out of the room. Their footsteps echoed on the floor, each step that much farther from her goal. Clarke could taste the defeat. Almost a full week had already passed since deciphering the code, and if Clarke’s instincts were correct, every moment counted.</p>
<p>They were feet from the exit, only had to pass by a few offices and the restroom before-</p>
<p>“Blast!” Clarke groaned.</p>
<p>Mr. Kane whipped towards her, eyes wide with concern. “Everything okay? Did you forget something?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m fine. I just need to make a stop at the ladies’ room.”</p>
<p>Mr. Kane nodded as he flicked his arm in that way all men seemed to do to reveal his wristwatch. “Would you like us to wait?”</p>
<p>“No, no,” Clarke shook her head. She gave Raven a quick wink. “I’m sure you’re looking forward to getting home this evening. Raven, I’ll catch up with you when I’m finished.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure?”</p>
<p>Damn Mr. Kane’s kind heart. </p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” Clarke smiled again. “I’ll be done in a jiffy. You go on ahead.”</p>
<p>“Goodnight, ladies. I’ll see you tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“Goodnight, sir,” Clarke waved as he exited the building.</p>
<p>When he was out of sight, Clarke smirked at Raven. </p>
<p>“I don’t know a thing,” Raven mouthed at her before spinning on her heel and leaving Clarke alone in the hallway.</p>
<p>The stairway leading up to the third floor was at the opposite end of the hall, just enough time for Clarke to set her wills straight. She had no idea what she would say to the officer to convince him she was right, but a lack of a solid plan had never stopped her before, and tonight was no different.</p>
<p>With each step up, her confidence grew, and by the time she reached the landing of the third floor, she was bolstered enough to speak to Franklin Roosevelt himself.</p>
<p>The hallway was eerily silent, all the usual clamor of people working gone, but a few bright lights illuminated the linoleum, and she only hoped that one of these lit offices held the man she was looking for.</p>
<p>Clarke counted carefully, nodding at each door from the stairs. </p>
<p>The fourth office loomed in front of her, door shut, but light spilled from underneath. The distinct sound of papers shuffling permeated through the closed office, and her heart calmed a fraction.</p>
<p>The officer was there.</p>
<p>She raised her hand, her knuckles rapping on the hard wood.</p>
<p>“Come in,” a muffled feminine voice called. Clarke wasn’t surprised to hear it; almost every officer in this building had a WAC assigned to him, doing his paperwork, being an assistant.</p>
<p>But when she pushed open the door to find not a man in sight, her shock hit her like a freight train. There, behind the desk, sat her lieutenant.</p>
<p>The lieutenant raised a single eyebrow. She said not a word and merely stared at a gaping Clarke in the doorway.</p>
<p>“Hi,” was all Clarke could muster.</p>
<p>And that was probably the worst thing she could have said because while her lieutenant was still staring, there was a prickle of annoyance etched right between her eyebrows.</p>
<p>“My friend told me you were a man,” Clarke blurted and instantly regretted all her life choices.</p>
<p>“Your friend is mistaken.”</p>
<p>“Very,” Clarke nodded.</p>
<p>The lieutenant set her pen down with an oddly gentle touch and crossed her arms on the table. “Is there something I can help you with?”</p>
<p>By the grace of God, Clarke snapped out of her shock and closed the door behind her. The office was sparse, devoid of all personal touches save a single framed photo facing the back of the room. A bookshelf filled with unmarked volumes decorated the otherwise bare office, but somehow, the spartan decor and neat precision suited the lieutenant perfectly.</p>
<p>Clarke stopped a few paces in front of the desk, thanking her wits for returning to her and remembering protocol. “I work downstairs,” Clarke started. “I’m a code girl.”</p>
<p>The lieutenant didn’t even flinch with the information.</p>
<p>“Earlier this week,” Clarke cleared her throat. “I decoded a message we intercepted from the Soviets. It said, ‘volunteer found blood on musketeer.’”</p>
<p>The lieutenant’s eyebrows piqued, just a micro-expression that she adjusted in a flash, but Clarke saw it clear as day.</p>
<p>“I’m assuming you reported this information to your supervisor,” the lieutenant sighed.</p>
<p>“I did, ma’am.”</p>
<p>“So why are you here?”</p>
<p>Clarke squared her shoulders, forcing her body to seem bigger and stronger than she currently felt. “They aren’t doing anything about it.”</p>
<p>The lieutenant clicked her tongue as she straightened in her chair. That information seemed to be as irritating to her as it was to Clarke. “Why are you here?” the lieutenant repeated with a hard edge to her voice.</p>
<p>The downright unfriendly tone was alarming, and Clarke was a little off-put by this turn of character. Where was the cordial lieutenant she’d run into a few days ago? Where was that hint of a smile that nearly sent her into tachycardia this very morning?</p>
<p>Clarke crossed her arms over her chest. “Something has to be done.”</p>
<p>“And what do you expect me to do?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know.” Clarke’s body began to heat with frustration. Adrenaline surged through her veins, her blood and muscles singing and tickling as she prepared for this verbal fight. “I heard you had a reputation, Lieutenant.”</p>
<p>“A reputation? For what exactly?”</p>
<p>“Getting things done,” Clarke bit.</p>
<p>The lieutenant broke into genuine laughter, and Clarke wasn’t sure if she wanted to storm out of the office or confront the lieutenant face to face with this clear lack of respect for her concern.</p>
<p>“You’re determined,” the lieutenant chuckled. “I’ll give you that. But Soviet codes are well above my pay grade. I’m sure the military is doing what they deem necessary with your decoded message. I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”</p>
<p>Clarke had always been a stubborn one, something her family and close friends were all too aware of. It’d gotten her in trouble a time or two, last summer a perfect example, but no matter what her consequences were, it just wasn’t something she could shake. Her obstinacy was as natural to her as the color of her eyes.</p>
<p>So without much of anything to hold her back, Clarke approached the desk, leaning her hands on the table. The lieutenant sat back in surprise, and the shock on her face at Clarke’s boldness only bolstered her resolve.</p>
<p>“Look, I may not have the fancy uniform or the pristine little silver bar pinned to my shoulder, but I’m not dumb. I’m not worthless. My intuition has never led me astray, and that little voice in my head is screaming that this is something that needs attention. And no one seems to care. <em>Blood</em>, Lieutenant. In the Philippines where we are battling the Japanese as we speak. That is what it said. And someone in Russia decided it was prudent enough to send a coded message about it. Now, <em>that</em> tells me it’s something.”</p>
<p>Clarke released the breath she was holding, quite pleased with herself for her impromptu speech. But the lieutenant did not seem to share her sentiments. Her eyes narrowed, and her jaw clicked back and forth. Her fingers flexed, and a few knuckles popped, echoing in the still office.</p>
<p>Clarke removed her hands from the desk and stood up straight.</p>
<p>“How did you know the message pertains to the Philippines?”</p>
<p>Oh, no. She slipped.</p>
<p>But so did the lieutenant.</p>
<p>Clarke smirked. “How do you?”</p>
<p>The lieutenant leveled Clarke with a piercing glare. Her chin raised, and the authority radiated off her.</p>
<p>“Sit down, Ms…”</p>
<p>“Griffin,” Clarke’s voice was far rougher than she anticipated, the lieutenant having more of an effect on her than she expected. “Clarke Griffin.”</p>
<p>The lieutenant rose from her chair, gliding across the small room with grace, and locked the door. She returned, but instead of retaking her seat, she leaned against the front of her desk. She glared at Clarke as if she were a primary school student caught misbehaving, and Clarke sunk into her chair like the guilty woman she was.</p>
<p>“How long have you been working in Arlington Hall?”</p>
<p>“Seven months and twelve days.”</p>
<p>The lieutenant’s knuckles turned white as she clenched the lip of her desk. Clarke’s overly precise answer clearly wasn’t the right way to go.</p>
<p>“Ms. Griffin,” the lieutenant huffed. “I was one of the first attendees of the WAAC officer candidate school. I’ve been here a long time. I know what is expected of me, of us. And as utterly irritating as it can be, I’m well aware of our… limits.”</p>
<p>“That’s-”</p>
<p>The lieutenant held up her hand, and Clarke bit her tongue.</p>
<p>“And with my experience, I’ve learned to approach certain situations with a delicate touch. One that does not include barging into an officer’s office after hours and demanding things get done.”</p>
<p>Clarke’s cheeks heated once more, and she struggled to release her suddenly tense muscles.</p>
<p>“Which do you think more effective,” the lieutenant continued. “The bear that breaks down the walls of the chicken coop, loud and strong, or the fox that sneaks in, quiet and clandestine?”</p>
<p>“Either way,” Clarke shrugged. “I think you’d have a lot of dead chickens.”</p>
<p>A hint of a smile pulled at the corner of the lieutenant’s lips, and Clarke couldn’t help the rush of pride swelling in her belly. The lieutenant’s chest rose and fell with a deep breath, and for the first time since she entered this office, the lieutenant seemed relaxed.</p>
<p>She crossed her arms over her chest, taking Clarke in, regarding her. It felt like she was reading Clarke’s soul.</p>
<p>“Do you live alone, Ms. Griffin?”</p>
<p>“Seems like a highly inappropriate question.”</p>
<p>“Hardly,” the lieutenant dismissed. “I’m merely suggesting that if you lived with a friend, husband, or family member that you might phone to inform them that you will be home late tonight.”</p>
<p>“Again-” Clarke flushed redder than a ripe apple. “A highly inappropriate proposition.”</p>
<p>“It’s not a proposition.” The lieutenant reached behind her and slid the phone forward. “It’s an order.”</p>
<p>She was so calm and sure, and Clarke was equally attracted as she was annoyed by the display. She hated to give in to this woman’s demands; she knew she’d lose any ground she still had, but curiosity was often the cause of her most terrible decisions.</p>
<p>She lifted the receiver to her ear and dialed her apartment’s number. The woman at the mail desk answered. “Good evening, Mrs. Green. It’s Clarke Griffin. Would you mind delivering a message to Ms. Reyes for me? Yes, I have a meeting with Lieutenant…”</p>
<p>“Woods,” the lieutenant nodded.</p>
<p>“Woods this evening,” Clarke smiled. She’d finally learned her name. “Yes, ma’am. Tell her I’ll see her later. Thank you, Mrs. Green.”</p>
<p>Clarke hung up the phone and outstretched her hand. “It’s a pleasure to formally meet you.”</p>
<p>The lieutenant glared at Clarke’s offered hand, and after a brief moment, wrapped her long fingers around Clarke’s. Her palm was warm, and just like before, a tingle burst from the touch. It shot through her whole body, singing and dancing its way across her skin.</p>
<p>Lt. Woods pumped her arm once, smirking, “Lieutenant Alexandra Woods, at your service, miss.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Proper Cup of Coffee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lt. Woods’ quarters mirrored her office.</p>
<p>It was just as sparse, just as impersonal, yet acutely pristine and neat. Not a bedsheet untucked or a pillow out of place. The only individual touches Clarke noticed were the book on the nightstand and a small radio in the corner of the otherwise empty desk.</p>
<p>The lieutenant gestured towards the bed, and Clarke took a tentative seat. It was softer than she imagined. She crossed her ankles over one another, hiding her sudden unease.</p>
<p>She was alone, in the private quarters of an officer she only just learned the name of. No one knew exactly where she was. No one knew exactly why she was there. Not even Raven. Clarke was vulnerable, and she was realizing how stupid the situation she’d walked right into was.</p>
<p>But all that self-realization didn’t matter.</p>
<p>Clarke trusted this lieutenant. She wouldn’t harm Clarke, not physically at least, so she stared down at her folded hands, trying to keep her gaze focused on her lap instead of the woman who was now slowly removing her uniform. </p>
<p>Lt. Woods undid the buttons on her coat one by one. Her fingers moved with practiced ease and speed, yet time inched forward at a glacial pace. When the lieutenant had her coat hung up in her closet, the world around her completely stopped, for now she was loosening the tie around her neck. She wasn’t even looking at Clarke, but that apparently didn’t matter. </p>
<p>Clarke’s heart thumped wildly out of control at the little display of disrobing, and while she could admit it was entirely innocent, her heart disagreed. There was something thrilling about watching this woman slip out of her uniform, like a superhero taking off their cape and assuming their secret identity, and Clarke was mesmerized.</p>
<p>The click of the door lock snapped her out of it.</p>
<p>Lt. Woods flicked on the desktop radio, adjusting the knobs until soft music filled the room. She pulled out her desk chair and settled into it. “Ms. Griffin-”</p>
<p>“Clarke. Please,” Clarke said. “Ms. Griffin is so formal.”</p>
<p>“Clarke,” the lieutenant corrected, and the way she wrapped her tongue around her name made Clarke’s body shiver. “How is it you came about this information?”</p>
<p>Well, that question sobered up her lust spell in a flash.</p>
<p>The lieutenant maintained her eye contact, waiting patiently, and the vehemence in that gaze made Clarke shift with discomfort. She took in a deep, reassuring breath. “I decoded the message.”</p>
<p>Lt. Woods tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. “You speak Russian?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>The lieutenant raised a single brow, and Clarke knew she’d have to admit Raven’s involvement, condemning her friend right along side her. She swallowed her guilt down. Now was not the time for uncertainties. “A friend does,” Clarke admitted. “She works in the department with me.”</p>
<p>“That explains part of your knowledge,” the lieutenant sighed. “But not the fact that you somehow deduced that musketeer pertains to the Philippines.”</p>
<p>“I-”</p>
<p>“There are a few explanations I can think of, Ms. Griffin.” Lexa leaned forward, her hands on her knees, and held Clarke’s gaze, intent and aggressive. “One: you are overly confident and often stick your nose where it shouldn’t be. Two: you are a dangerous fool who can’t resist a bit of mystery and intrigue. Three: you are actively working against the United States to gather clandestine information on behalf of our enemies. Now, you are a cryptanalyst, and therefore somewhat intelligent, so I can rule out fool. So which is it, Ms. Griffin? Are you far too self-assured, or are you a spy?”</p>
<p>Clarke worked to rid the cotton-feel in her mouth and quickly choked out a simple response. “I’m not a spy.”</p>
<p>Lexa let out a humorless laugh. “Smug then. I see.”</p>
<p>“Look, Lieutenant,” Clarke raced to save herself. “I just want to help. I know deep down in my soul that this is something worth the effort. It’s important, and I-”</p>
<p>“I agree.”</p>
<p>“-just want to…” Clarke blinked through her sudden surprise. “You agree?”</p>
<p>Lt. Woods sat back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. It was proper and demure, the complete opposite of her aggressive stance a moment ago, and the whole turn had Clarke even more unstable than she was before. </p>
<p>“I need to know exactly how you came about this information. The truth, Ms. Griffin, I will tolerate half-answers no longer.”</p>
<p>Clarke took a deep breath in preparation for what she knew was about to be an impressive ramble of words. “A corporal ran into me the other day. Her papers went flying, and while I helped gather the mess, I saw a map of the Philippines labeled Operation Musketeer, which I obviously remembered from the message. And then I kept seeing this word, over and over in so many of the documents: aswang. And I know that means ghost in Tagalog, and to me, that sounds incredibly dangerous. It seems like it could be a code name for a spy ring or the like. Please, Lt. Woods, I’m just trying to help.”</p>
<p>“Aswang,” the lieutenant breathed. “You’re sure that’s what you saw?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Clarke nodded. “I’m sure.”</p>
<p>“And how is it you’re certain nothing is being done about this?”</p>
<p>“I-” Clarke hesitated again. She’d already admitted Raven’s involvement without naming her, but adding one more thing gave her a moment of pause. She squeezed her eyes shut, lamenting her inevitable answer. “I had my friend ask around. She’s been here a while and knows things, people.”</p>
<p>Lt. Woods pinched the brow of her nose like a parent disappointed with their child. “You do realize that what you’ve done could be considered treason, yes?”</p>
<p>“I do,” Clarke gulped.</p>
<p>“And you put not only the careers of the corporal, your friend, and your own on the line but your freedoms as well?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>An awkward silence fell upon the room.</p>
<p>Clarke sat on the bed, still as a statue, while the lieutenant rubbed her temples in small soothing circles. She’d been aware her actions could be construed as treason; it was true. Raven herself alerted her to that fact, but she honestly hadn’t given it much thought. It had simply never occurred to her that in trying to do the right thing, she’d be considered a traitor, a spy. And in her stubbornness, she’d endangered more than just herself. </p>
<p>But the lieutenant hadn’t made any indication that she was going to arrest Clarke, not yet, at least, and Clarke broke the silence with a simple question. “Why did you believe me?”</p>
<p>Lt. Woods opened her eyes and stilled her fingers.</p>
<p>“When I said I wasn’t a spy,” Clarke clarified. “You didn’t even question my answer, and quite frankly, it was an answer any spy would give.” </p>
<p>The lieutenant almost laughed. “You’re far too brazen to be a spy.”</p>
<p>Clarke wasn’t sure whether to be offended or proud of that assumption, but there was also a depth to the lieutenant’s eyes at the moment. A look of awareness. Lt. Woods knew more about Clarke than she was giving away.</p>
<p>In a mercifully lucky twist of fate, an Andrews Sisters song danced over the airwaves. It was a favorite of hers, and it did wonders to calm her over-working brain. Clarke fluttered her eyes shut, and despite the intensity of her current situation, found herself gently singing along with the radio.</p>
<p>A chair groaned, and Clarke opened her eyes to find the lieutenant genuinely smiling at her. The gesture pulled a deep blush from her cheeks, but at the sight of her flush, Lt. Woods stood up straight. She folded her hands behind her back, a perfect picture of professionalism once more, even without her coat and tie.</p>
<p>“Well, Ms. Griffin-”</p>
<p>Their meeting was over.</p>
<p>“Clarke,” Clarke corrected as she stood from the bed and straightened her dress. </p>
<p>“Right, Clarke.” The lieutenant offered her hand, and Clarke politely took it, ready this time for the sensation of touching her skin. </p>
<p>“I’m not going to report you tonight-” Lt. Woods squeezed their joined hands and pulled. Clarke stumbled a step forward, stopping inches from the lieutenant’s face. “But mark my words, if I discover you’ve managed to sneak a peek at confidential reports again, I will bring the full might of the WAC upon you.”</p>
<p>“Understood,” Clarke nodded.</p>
<p>Lt. Woods released her hold on Clarke and checked her watch. She grimaced at the time. “Do you live far?”</p>
<p>“A few blocks away,” Clarke said as she buttoned her winter coat. “Just about a thirty-minute walk. Twenty if my feet feel especially motivated.”</p>
<p>The lieutenant worried her jaw. “Thirty minutes?”</p>
<p>“I’m a big girl, Lieutenant,” Clarke smiled as a wave of warmth from the lieutenant’s concern coursed through her body. “I’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>Clarke nodded and offered one last smile before heading to the door, but just before she stepped out of the room, a hand landed on her shoulder.</p>
<p>“Wait-” Lt. Woods snapped her touch back. “Stay. You can take the bed. I have some work to do anyway. I doubt I’ll sleep a wink tonight.”</p>
<p>“It’s really fine. I can walk-”</p>
<p>“I insist.” Lt. Woods stepped around Clarke, locking the door once again. “If I allow you to walk home this late in the dark, I’ll be concerned for your well-being and get nothing done. Consider it a favor to me. Please.”</p>
<p>“Despite this overreaction,” Clarke shook her head as she removed her coat. “I’ll stay. Just this once.”</p>
<p>*******</p>
<p>The sun had barely peaked the horizon, and the frigid air swirled around Clarke as she walked down the same path as last night, though this time, there was far less tension radiating from the woman next to her.</p>
<p>Lt. Woods walked with a grace and precision unique to the discipline of the WAC, and Clarke felt a bit like a bumbling fool beside her. </p>
<p>“Here.” Lt. Woods handed Clarke an orange. “I snuck it out of mess this morning while you were still sleeping.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Clarke blushed.</p>
<p>The lieutenant came to a stop, and Clarke mirrored her. She smoothed down non-existent wrinkles on her jacket and bit her bottom lip. A nervous tick that intrigued Clarke.</p>
<p>“I-” Lt. Woods cleared her throat. “I would appreciate your discretion. It’s not strictly allowed for civilians to stay in an officer’s quarters.”</p>
<p>“Your secret is safe with me,” Clarke promised, and she meant it. Her lieutenant had trusted Clarke, had assured her she would not seek punishment for her actions, and Clarke was not one to turn around and bite the hand that helped her. </p>
<p>“I do have a question for you, though.”</p>
<p>The lieutenant raised her eyebrows and nodded for Clarke to continue.</p>
<p>“Are you going to use the information I gave you last night?”</p>
<p>Lt. Woods spoke slowly, carefully even. “Officially, I must encourage you to mind your place and do the job you signed up for. Nothing more, nothing less.”</p>
<p>Clarke nodded. “And unofficially?”</p>
<p>“Unofficially-” the lieutenant kept her face emotionless, save the slight twinkle in her eye. “I have several new meetings scheduled throughout the next few days, thanks to you.”</p>
<p>Clarke’s chest filled with pride as they strolled side by side into Arlington Hall. It felt so wonderful to be useful, to have given valuable information to someone who could actually use it and make a difference.</p>
<p>At the door to her little room, Clarke stopped and shook the lieutenant’s hand once more. “Good luck in your meetings, Lt. Woods.”</p>
<p>“Good luck deciphering codes, Ms. Griffin.” She pumped her arm once, and with a hint of a smile no one but Clarke could see, went about her way.</p>
<p>*******</p>
<p>It’d been a few days since Clarke’s night with Lt. Woods, and she was still riding that high. There really was no equivalent to that feeling of being valuable, and she had every ounce of confidence that her lieutenant could use her information to get things done.</p>
<p>And she did seem like <em>her</em> lieutenant now.</p>
<p>After that night, sleeping in her bed, talking, the idea of her lieutenant solidified into something real. She was intriguing and intelligent, puzzling and beautiful. Lt. Woods’ eyes seemed endless, like they’d seen to the ends of the world and back, and everything, all packaged up together created this person Clarke was inexplicably drawn to. It was unnerving yet undoubtedly right.</p>
<p>Clarke had given Raven the vague gist of that night, leaving out a few damning particulars, and it’d been amusing to see Raven’s want for every sordid detail battle with her desire to keep her plausible deniability about Clarke’s actions. Her restraint was actually quite impressive.</p>
<p>She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her lieutenant since that night, but Clarke assumed she was busy with all those meetings she’d spoken of. Part of her was anxious to see her again, if not for updates on the message, then for the simple opportunity to talk. Clarke felt those embers of desire grow hotter by the minute.</p>
<p>“You know,” Raven whispered. “I like this Clarke.”</p>
<p>Clarke bit her thumbnail, staring down at the rows of numbers before her. “What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“You seem content, happy even, and you’ve plowed through your tasks without a single negative word all week.”</p>
<p>“You’re talking like I’m usually some Woeful Winnie.”</p>
<p>“Never. I just like seeing you smile every once in a while,” Raven smirked. “It wouldn’t have to do with your LT, would it?”</p>
<p>“She’s not <em>my</em> LT,” Clarke insisted. “And maybe.”</p>
<p>“You should talk to her again. You’ve got a break about now.” Raven wiggled her eyebrows up and down, and if they hadn’t been in the middle of the workday, Clarke would have burst out in laughter over how ridiculously dramatic she looked.</p>
<p>“Go on,” Raven pushed. “Bring her a cup of that terrible coffee from the kitchen.”</p>
<p>“Maybe I will.”</p>
<p>“That’s the spirit!”</p>
<p>Raven gave her an encouraging pat on the back, and Clarke strode towards the kitchen, prepping a simple cup of black coffee before making her way up the stairs.</p>
<p>Lt. Woods’ door was ajar, and the sound of papers shuffling and quiet voices mumbling grew louder and louder as Clarke approached. It wasn’t that unusual of a sight, but then again in the little time she’d spent with the lieutenant she’d gathered she was quite solitary. The open door felt odd. The multiple sets of voices felt wrong. The casual chatter felt grim.</p>
<p>Clarke froze in the doorway.</p>
<p>Two WAC privates gathered the books from the shelves, stacking them in increasingly full boxes. Lt. Woods’ office was picked clean, not a trace of her left. Clarke’s heart leapt to her throat as she searched for some plausible reason for this scene.</p>
<p>“Excuse me,” Clarke cleared her throat. “Would either of you be able to point me in the direction of Lt. Woods’ new office?”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t have one,” the darker-haired private shook her head, resuming her task of packing away the lieutenant’s things.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry?” Clarke shook her head, begging the fog of worry to clear. Lt. Woods didn’t have a new office. Was she okay? Had she been shipped off over seas? Was she in danger? Would she ever see her again? Why didn’t she tell Clarke she was leaving?</p>
<p>Not that the lieutenant was obligated to give Clarke that information. They’d just chatted occasionally in passing. That night didn’t necessarily mean the same to Lt. Woods as it did to Clarke. Not everyone was so desperate for something good that they made a mountain out of a mole hill. Lt. Woods owed her nothing.</p>
<p>Clarke swallowed down her emotional spiral and blinked back at the private. “What do you mean she doesn’t have one? Was she transferred? Assigned somewhere else? Has she been deployed to the front?”</p>
<p>The dark one dropped a weighty book into a box and glared at Clarke for the second interruption. She wasted not an ounce of emotion as she spoke. “The lieutenant has been granted indefinite furlough.”</p>
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